Poisonous Dreams
by terribleprivilege
Summary: Haunted by nightmares since the attack on New York, Tony becomes unable to hide his exhaustion from the others. Each member of the Avengers has a theory about Stark's odd behavior - but the truth is far more mischievous.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

He wasn't sure how long he had been staring at the wall, blankets abandoned on the floor and mind racing. He wasn't sure when the moisture on his skin had dried and left him cold to the touch. In fact, at this precise moment the only thing Tony was entirely sure of was that his heart was pounding so hard it made his chest ache.

This was the twenty third night in a row. He hadn't mean to keep count, but hours spent dreaming of the last night he had slept soundly eventually resulted in a painful awareness of just how long it had been.

He sat up, dragging an open palm down his face before looking around through squinted eyes for his comforter. Wrapping the fabric around himself and shuffling to the kitchen, he briefly wished he was an actual super human rather than just a man with an iron suit.

"Jarvis" He groaned, letting his weight fall onto one of the bar stools. "Time?"

"Good morning, Mr. Stark. The time is 0500 hours."

He let his head fall forward, hitting the counter top with a loud thud. "Too early for whiskey."

"I believe so, sir."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Jarvis, call Banner."

"Yes sir" There was a pause, and eventually a faint click. "Banner on the line."

"Put him on." Tony commanded, turning his head to one side so the house mics would pick his voice up clearly.

"Right on time" Bruce's soft voice filled the room.

"I like to be punctual." Tony said dryly, rocking his head back and forth on the hard surface below in an attempt to feel more alert.

Banner sighed, "No change, then?"

"No change." Tony echoed, sounding defeated.

"Some believe that reoccurring dreams are meant to lead you to a solution of a problem that exists in your waking life." Banner began calmly, the sound of shuffling papers in the background.

"The only problem in my waking life is that I'm always _awake_."

Nearly a week ago, the Avengers team had been convinced to reunite. A task force had been put into place after the alien invasion that nearly wiped out Manhattan. The public needed to be placated, and numerous surveys had shown that the 'superheroes' were in high regard. Tony was in no shape to be attending meetings, or doing anything at all for that matter. Sleep deprivation had left him clumsy, disoriented and looking a little rough around the edges. But, he wasn't about to let anyone know that. He would make it through the meetings, and deal with his problems when he got home. At least, that was the plan.

Except, Tony had stumbled into the first meeting about forty five minutes late. It is also noteable that he was not wearing shoes. He had tried to pass it off as some new age hippie movement. You know, to impress the ladies that do yoga in the park. It's entirely possible that this would have worked, had he not looked so utterly confused when Fury first breached the subject. As Tony stared at his bare feet, the seconds ticked by. By the time he had finally formulated his explaination, his teammates faces were ripe with concern. The rest of the conversation went predictably downhill, and Tony was assigned a mandatory medical evaluation.

"A dream that takes place in a desert can represent a lack of something in your life. It could be that you discovered a betrayal, or a loss… " Bruce continued on the overhead speakers.

"Mm." Tony hoped the noise would come across as thoughtful.

He had gone to his medical appointment and received a clean bill of health. Even his overworked liver seemed to be holding its own. And so the issue was forgotten. Well, until the next meeting..

Natasha had been assigned to lead a training session. There was concern, understandably, about the ability of some members to remain unemotional in the case of interrogation or torture. As Natasha went through a series of high stakes scenarios, Tony fell asleep and began to drool. On Clint's shoulder.

It was after this meeting, and the ensuing kerfuffle, that Bruce had pulled him aside. Too exhausted and delirious to keep his personal life in its usual iron cage, Tony had blurted out the truth. He told the doctor that he hadn't slept more than a couple of hours in weeks. That every night he awoke to the same horrors. That he had reached the end of his rope. Always the optimistic one – as if being the Hulk part time drained him of the ability to have negative feelings –Bruce had made it his personal goal to rid his friend of the dreams that plagued him.

Lately it felt like everything moved in slow motion. How long had it been since Bruce had stopped talking? Tony should say something.

"Oh."

"Think about what happened right before this started, twenty days ago." Bruce prompted.

"Twenty-three."

"Okay, twenty-three days ago. Did you lose anything? Money? A girl?"

Tony chuckled, "I don't _lose_ girls unless I _want_ to, Bruce."

Bruce chose not to validate the comment with a response.

"Okay, okay." Tony took a deep breath and tried to think. "The last night that I slept was the night after the shawarma. You don't think the shawarma did it, do you!? That would be seriously not cool. I'm thinking about buying that place, actually, you know. Give it a little make over, maybe some nice red walls and-"

"Tony." Bruce's voice sounded like it had been carefully restrained.

"Oh uh.. what was the question?"

"You've mentioned before that this all started after the attack.." Bruce said, returning to a thoughtful tone, "I believe that must be related somehow. However, you don't show any other signs of post-traumatic stress disorder.."

"Nope, got the all clear on that one during the medical exam. Boy, that was sure a blast. How do you keep your cool with them all up in your personal space like that? If ever there was a time to feel ragey.."

"Perhaps you lost something in the battle." Bruce redirected firmly.

"Nope, nothing except a rather nice Iron Man suit and my interest in space travel."

"It's possible that it could be a symbolic loss." Bruce suggested, "Tell me again about the dream."

"Same deal." Tony lifted himself up on his elbows, weaving his fingers into his hair. "Standing alone in the desert. Nothing happens for a long time, but I feel like shit. Dust storm, being sucked into sand pit of doom. Yadda yadda."

"A hole can represent a loss of control, or a _freedom_ from being in control. You must surrender yourself to the fate of falling. Is there something in your life that you feel you want to do, but you must hold back?" Bruce pressed on. It seemed dream interpretation was the topic of the day.

"Holding back." Tony repeated back to his friend. "Yup. Sounds like me."

Bruce let out a long breath, "You are going to have to open up to me if you want to figure this out."

"I thought you were a doctor, not a therapist."

"I'm a concerned party."

"Is there a PhD in that?" Tony immediately regretted the comment. Letting people help him didn't exactly come naturally.

"I will talk to you tomorrow." Bruce said simply. He seemed to have a pretty good sense of when they were about to hit the proverbial brick wall for the day. "Give some thought to what we talked about."

"On it."

"Banner is off the line." Jarvis informed.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Tony spent roughly another hour drifting in and out of sleep on the kitchen counter before abandoning the comforter on the linoleum and heading to the shower. He was wandering out of the master bedroom, still damp and wearing only a pair of jeans, when the Jarvis informed him that he had a visitor.

"Good morning, Mr. Stark" Steve greeted, with his usual unneeded formality.

"Morning Cap." Tony yawned, tossing a towel over his head and drying his hair.

"How are you?"

"I'm just fine, Steve. I'll be fine tomorrow too. Promise."

Upon Tony's request - or rather, _demand_ - Bruce had not told the others about the dreams. Only he and Fury were privy to this information.

"Every soldier finds a way to escape." Steve spoke with eyes closed, as if the words had brought back a memory.

It was occuring to Tony that his life might have been easier if he had just told everyone what was going on. It appeared that the mighty Avengers were no better than a group of high school girls when it came to rumors. Over the course of the last twenty three days, each member of the team had created their own backstory for his strange behavior. Some were more eleborate than others.

Steve had settled on alcoholism. Not very creative, but not wholly untrue either.

"Steve, buddy.." Tony flashed his stage smile, "Everything is a-okay over here at Stark Tower."

"If you need to talk." Steve urged, stepping towards Tony as he removed the towel from his head.

"I'm sure you'll show up either way."

The super soldier visibly stiffened, "My apologies for overstepping."

He really looked sorry, too. How did such a massive guy manage to pull that off?

"I will see you at headquarters tomorrow." Steve added with a nod, and turned towards the door.

"Um." Tony silently wished his teammates would just act more like teammates. You know..distant, cold, only around when you need them. He was way out of his comfort zone here. "I uh.."

Steve raised an eyebrow, watching the billionaire expectedly.

"You're good." Tony finished awkwardly. He walked over to Steve and made a fist, holding it out in front of him. Steve of course, had no idea what was going on. "It's called a 'fist bump'."

"...A what?"

"A fist bump. Okay, here.. you just, make a fist, and tap my fist…. and… yeah, okay, so that sounds pretty stupid when I break it down…"

Steve made a loose fist and stared at it, "What is the purpose?"

"It's like a handshake."

"What is wrong with shaking hands?"

Tony chewed on the inside of his way Steve forced him to explain pop culture made him uncomfortable.

"Yeah, okay, fine."

Steve extended his open hand to Tony, blue eyes searching brown with obvious concern.

Tony looked away, "So, tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." Steve agreed. He held the handshake, and the eye contact, a moment longer before breaking free and letting himself out.

Tony looked at his hand, making a fist and releasing it several times before rolling his eyes and returning his room in search of a shirt.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

"Sir, you have an appointment in one hour." Jarvis announced the following morning. Tony had already made his daily call to Banner and managed to choke down some oatmeal along with his whiskey.

"Jarvis, call me a ride."

"Already done sir, it will arrive in approximately three minutes."

Tony sighed. "That will get me there 20 minutes early."

"Agent Hill insisted."

"Do you work for Agent Hill, Jarvis?"

"She has over ride access to th-"

"Yeah, yeah.." Tony stood up, slapping his hand down on the counter before grabbing his coat off the hook. "I hate that woman."

"Have a good day Mr. Stark"

"Shut up Jarvis."

Tony spent the ride to headquarters writing down words he associated with his dreams. He felt like an idiot, but Banner had gone on a verbal rampage when Tony had declined to participate. And so here he was. _Dry. Repetitive. Bright. Dream...y. Annoying._

Eventually the car stopped and the door opened. Tony folded the paper into a small square and placed it in the inside pocket of his coat before exiting the vehicle clumsily and entering the building. He crossed the lobby, stopping for a moment to admire the press photos of himself and the others that lined the walls. They were all from the day of the invasion, and he felt a bitter sweet pang as he turned away and opened the door to the meeting room.

Clint and Thor were playing chess. Tony stood in the doorway, swaying slightly and watching them. Most things felt unreal in his haze of sleep deprivation, but this topped the cake.

"Hi Tony" Clint smiled, "How are you?"

Tony tucked his hands in his pockets and spun in a little circle, looking around for another witness to the scene before him and coming up empty handed.

"Barton, you play with great skill." Thor announced in his low voice, hovering his hand over the pieces as he debated his next move.

"You guys are playing chess." Tony thought it might make more sense if he said it aloud. It didn't.

Thor turned in his chair to face him. "Would you care to play the champion?"

It turned out, Thor and Clint had a lot in common. They both saw the value in traditional weaponry, for example. And.. well, that was actually about it. Clint just couldn't handle the way Thor wandered around headquarters since Loki had been imprisoned. He was like a lost puppy. A really large, armor plated puppy. Clint felt bad for the guy.

"I don't play chess." Tony informed flatly.

"I think it's sweet." Natasha said, entering the room with a smirk and tousling Clint's hair on her way by. "They're bonding."

Clint cringed a little. "It's just a game."

Natasha waved him off with a roll of her eyes and stopped in front of Tony. "How are you doing?"

"Great, and yourself?" Tony said with a nod of the head.

She squinted into his dark eyes for a long moment before speaking. "Good."

"Right, is the Iceman around?" Tony asked, making a mental note to never show up early for a meeting again.

"He's upstairs." She smiled, lifting her chin in the direction of the stairway.

Tony nodded again and quickly fled in that direction. As he reached the top of the stairs he spotted Rogers on the far end of the room, in the middle of what was likely his ten thousandth push up.

"I see you arrived on time." Agent Hill's voice said from beside him.

Tony glanced over, seeing Hill sitting in a leather arm chair flipping through some files. "Yeah, thanks for that."

She smiled, "My pleasure."

Steve stood up, wiping his hands on his pant legs. "Hey Tony"

"You ever just lay on the couch and eat potato chips?"

"I prefer popcorn." Steve smiled, sitting down across from the agent. "You're here bright and early today."

"You can thank Agent Control Freak over here for that."

Steve gave Hill a side glance, "You still getting past his security?"

"Yep."

"What is this? Are you guys friends now?" Tony's gaze shifted between the two several times.

"Are we not supposed to talk to each other?" Steve inquired, calmly picking up his watch and putting it on.

"Shouldn't she be somewhere doing... wait, what do agents do anyway?"

"You mean other than annoy you?" Hill replied coyly, closing her files.

"Meeting starts in five!" Clint announced from the stairway, before dropping straight off the banister and out of sight.

Steve stood, nodding to Hill and heading towards the stairs. "Better get down there."

Tony gestered to Steve, "Ladies first."

Steve didn't take the bait, pausing only a moment to sigh before continuing on. As soon as he had passed, Tony yawned as quietly as possible and stepped in behind him. As Tony walked downstairs he dug his fingernails into the soft skin of his wrist and silently hoped the meeting would be a short one.


End file.
